Page 40 of The Mistake
‘Dad found her,’ Emily chokes out, her voice scratchy and raw in a way that makes her sound years older than she really is. ‘Mum, Dad found Erin.’
Somewhere outside, there is the wail of sirens, drawing closer and closer, until all Natalie can hear is the scream ringing out in the empty bedroom, but she’s not sure if it’s the sirens or if the terrible wail is coming from somewhere deep inside her.
Pete
Pete feels light-headed at the thought of how close he came to almost missing her altogether. A couple more steps and he would never have seen her, tucked away like that. He presses his hands over his eyes for a moment. He doesn’t know what it was – instinct or something else, something more … spiritual – that made him pause as he approached the old oak tree besidethe stream, just before the path rounds the last corner back into theforest, but he prays his thanks to a god he doesn’t believe in that he did.
It was the lettering on the M&S bag that caught his eye, a ghostly white against the dark plastic, tucked away in the hollow of the oldest tree in the woods. The tree is a favourite of everyone in the village, old and young alike – the older people love it because it’s been there since they were kids, and the kids love it because it’s the best tree in the whole wood for climbing and hiding. As he had crept forward, his heart hammering in his chest, and he had seen her tiny face, so still and white, her lashes resting on her cheeks, it was as if the forest floor had fallen away beneath his feet. Any good memories he had of that tree – of showing Emily the best way to climb up into its thick branches (to Natalie’s horror), of collecting acorns with Zadie from the foot of the tree so she can ‘feed the squirrels’ – all of that has been erased by the sight of Erin wedged into the hollow, ghostly and silent.
Now, Pete sits in the back of the ambulance, a shiny silver sheet around his shoulders as he watches the paramedics work on Erin’s tiny body, desperately praying that any minute now he’ll hear that familiar wail, the one that usually makes his toes curl up and his whole body sigh. Despite the warmth of the foil sheet hecan’t stop shivering, his muscles contracting over and over until his entire body begins to ache. He feels sick, his stomach rolling, as every time he closes his eyes he sees Erin’s little face, the way she had laid so still, wrapped in her blanket and the Marks and Spencer carrier bag. He keeps hearing the way her name had slipped involuntarily from his lips as he made his way over the wet, boggy ground to get to her, his heart stilling in his chest as she made no response. No cry, no gasp, no whimper, just a thick, unsettling silence. He can still smell the cloying sulphurous scent of the river on the air, clinging to the mud and leaves that stick to the soles of his trainers. His hands stink, too, even though the paramedics gave him wipes to clean them, after he’d slipped and fallen in the mud in his haste to get to Erin. The carrier bag lies on the ambulance floor by Pete’s feet now, the slick of mud from his hands obscuring the lettering, and he closes his eyes, feeling off-kilter.
‘Excuse me.’ The paramedic brushes past him as she reaches for something on the trolley, jolting Pete back to the present, and he reaches out and grabs at her arm.
‘She’s … Erin’s going to be OK, isn’t she?’ Pete realises as he asks the question that he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.
The paramedic pauses for a second, an expression he can’t read flitting over her face before she gives him a tight smile and rummages wordlessly through the trolley.
Suspicion. Is that what Pete can see written all over her face? He wants to carry on talking to her, to tell her this isn’t his fault, but she turns back to Erin, who is still silent and motionless on the stretcher.
She’s so quiet. Pete realises he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Erin be this silent for so long. Even when she is asleep she mumbles and tuts to herself, rolling and fidgeting in her cot and rustling the blankets all night long. He knows that Natalie thinks he doesn’t wake up, that he doesn’t hear a thing once his head hits the pillow, but, he confesses to himself with a sickening twist tohis stomach, he does. He does wake up and he does hear Erin, but he actively chooses to not get up and see to her. Natalie is at home with Erin on her own all day long – Emily is at sixth form or her summer job and Zadie is at school – and still Pete comes home to no dinner and an untidy house. At the risk of sounding like a massive bastard, Pete doesn’t see how Natalie can expect him to get up all night long with Erin and then get up at five o’clock in the morning to do a full day on site. Now, trying to catch a glimpse of his baby daughter between the paramedics as they move swiftly and quietly around her, he wishes he could take it all back. The stark realisation that everything could be ripped away from him, even if Erin does make it through what has happened to her tonight, makes his eyes smart. If only he could have it all back, could have things the way they were before this night, then he’d do it all so differently. He’d get up with Erin, he’d deal with Zadie’s tantrums, he’d be supportive of Emily and Jake’s relationship, if only things could go back to the way they were twenty-four hours ago.
Twenty-four hours. Is that all it’s been since everything was normal? The ambulance driver slams the back doors of the ambulance closed and the paramedic turns to Pete.
‘We’re going to head to the hospital now, Mr Maxwell. I know you’re worried, but please, when we arrive, let us do our job. The sooner we get Erin inside and with the doctor, the better.’
Pete nods blankly, pulling the silver foil sheet more tightly around his shoulders. Still Erin is silent, her face so white she looks like a porcelain doll. Her fingernails are tinged with blue, and the oxygen mask covering the lower half of her face is so tiny it looks like a toy. There is a rumble as the engine starts, and then the ambulance is away, the siren shattering the air as they career through the village and out onto the main road to the hospital.
As they speed through the dark streets, Pete thinks over the day, unable to tear his eyes away from Erin’s silent body. Just yesterday – hell, just this morning – Pete’s life was OK. Yes, he’dfucked things up with Vanessa, but she was dealt with. He had a wife who loved him, even if she wasn’t always present, and three beautiful kids. Someone today has conspired to take all of this away from him. But who?
As the ambulance takes a corner at a swift pace, Pete has to hang on tight to save himself from falling off the narrow seat he’s perched on, the stink of the river mud rising from his trainers as he moves. The rest of the journey to the hospital passes in a blur, Pete unable to think about anything except Erin and the scream of the siren in his ears. As soon as the ambulance screeches to a halt outside the accident and emergency department, the doors are yanked open and Pete finds himself shoved to one side as the waiting doctors and paramedics wheel Erin out of the ambulance, rain splattering the foil around his shoulders. He feels clueless, a useless spare part as the doctors and paramedics shout phrases that make no sense, until he hears the word ‘unresponsive’ and his heart seems to stop dead in his chest.
Erin is wheeled into A&E as Pete runs alongside, trying desperately to keep up. There is a moment where the lights overhead seem too bright, and he is unable to hear anything over the wheels of the stretcher as they scuff over the hospital linoleum, and he thinks for a heart-stopping moment that he might faint. He can’t take his eyes from the slight mound her body makes under the blanket; she seems smaller than ever, if that’s at all possible. Her face is hidden by the oxygen mask, and as the doctors rush her into a private room Pete feels as if he has lost all control for the first time in his life.
‘Mr Maxwell, please.’ A nurse firmly stops him at the door to the room where they have Erin, one hand up to prevent him from entering. ‘You can’t come in here. I have to ask you to move to the waiting area.’
‘You don’t understand.’ Pete’s voice is croaky, his throat dry and sore from shouting for Erin. ‘That’s my baby … Erin, she’s my daughter.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Behind the nurse, Pete sees a doctor tilting Erin’s head back, a thin tube being pushed down her tiny throat. His own throat closes over and once again he feels the threat of tears. The nurse firmly closes the door behind her, and Pete moves to the small window to the side of the room. There is no way he’s going to sit on some plastic chair in the middle of a waiting room full of sick people. He needs to be here, needs to keep his eyes on Erin at all times. He’s let her down enough tonight; there’s no way he’s letting her down again.
Pete watches helplessly as the nurses attach sensors to Erin’s hands, wires trailing to a machine beside the bed. More pads are pressed onto her tiny chest, and Pete is struck by how white and waxy her skin looks as the doctor attaches the pads to another machine and a high-pitched beeping fills the air, constant and repetitive. A nurse taps the end of an empty syringe and then inserts it into Erin’s arm, and Pete’s eyes follow the line Erin’s blood makes along the attached tube into a small vial. Pete feels almost woozy as he watches the nurse draw Erin’s blood, a thick, dark maroon, a shocking contrast to the paleness of her skin. He feels it again: that overwhelming sensation that he has lost control of things for the first time in his life. Even with Vanessa telling Natalie about their affair, he still thought he could fix things – could take control of the spiralling situation – but not now. Not over this. Pete presses his forehead to the window, the cold glass welcome against the heat of his skin, as a metallic taste fills his mouth. The taste of fear.
All he can do is wait.
Natalie
Natalie sits in the back of the police car, desperately trying to draw in enough oxygen. Her cheeks burn and it’s hot and stuffy in the car, the windows tightly closed and the heater blowing hot, dusty air despite the fact that it’s the middle of August. She wonders if Pete is at the hospital yet, the ambulance screeching away before she had even fastened her seatbelt. Pete’s face had been pale as he’d climbed into the back of the ambulance, Erin’s tiny body disappearing inside ahead of him, cradled in the paramedic’s arms. Her feet had automatically started to follow them, but then the police officer was at her side, gently taking her elbow and guiding her towards the waiting police car.
The familiar streets fly past in a blur, as rain begins to splatter the windows. Natalie sighs, still feeling oddly numb as she watches the world through the passenger window, the glass beginning to steam up as Natalie’s breath hits it. She’d thought the storm was over, that the weather was meant to turn tonight and they would wake up to blue skies in the morning, but apparently not. Somewhere, deep and buried, she thinks she should feel relieved that Pete found Erin before the rain started, but she still feels as if this is all a terrible dream that she’ll wake up from at any moment. She blinks and a single tear runs down one cheek, slipping into the corner of her mouth, leaving the salty taste of heartbreak on her tongue.
‘Natalie? Nat?’ DI Travis taps gently on her knee to get her attention and Natalie drags her gaze away from the rain-washed streets outside. She can still faintly hear the sound of a siren in the distance. ‘I was asking why you had people over to the house tonight. Were you celebrating something special?’
Something about the way she asks the question tells Natalie that the police officer already knows the answer, but she draws in a breath of that fuggy, stuffy air and replies. ‘Yes, Emily – she’s our eldest daughter – it was her birthday. Itisher birthday, her eighteenth.’ The words feel jumbled, as though she can’t put them in the right order. ‘We were having a party to celebrate, because she got her A level results this week and she’s going to university.’ For a moment Natalie can’t remember where Emily is going, before the name presents itself on the tip of her tongue. ‘Durham,’ she says with a cold wave of relief. ‘Emily’s going to go to Durham.’ She thinks of the way Emily’s lip curled as she spat her anger at Natalie in the bedroom, wonders if she’ll ever be forgiven for not dishing out sympathy at Emily’s distress over Jake leaving.
‘Wait a minute.’ Panic clenches at Natalie’s insides, turning her hot, then cold. ‘Zadie. Where is Zadie? Who’s looking after her?’ She twists in her seat, looking out of the rear window as if she’ll be able to see the house, see Zadie.
DI Travis puts out a hand, as if to calm Natalie. ‘She’s OK, she’s back at the house. Emily is there with her, and also a lady called Eve? She said she’s a close friend of yours.’
